Author's Note: Surprise! Another holiday story! This is technically the original holiday story I was going to post on ff net. I initially chose not to because this is written purely for selfish reasons (my biggest guilty pleasure when I read Richonne fanfic is teen Richonne). I've toyed around a little with teenaged Richonne in CR and BDAD, but I've always wanted to do a story centered around them. This is the closest to that I'm going to come. :)

A couple of things to keep in mind. If you're not a fan of a more "immature" Richonne, you probably won't dig this one. Both Rick and Michonne are teenagers, a.k.a. they're inexperienced. Both might annoy you with their faults, lol. Also, there's not much plot other than Richonne's roadtrip and relationship so if you enjoy a fic with lots of stuff going on (i.e., lots of characters, subplots, etc) this one's maybe not it. Last thing, it's ultimately supposed to be an "uplifting" holiday story, but without giving anything away, there will be a tragic element weaved into the story too. I'm sorry for rambling, hehe….just want to throw that out there

Anywho, this should be short…about 6ish chapters. Here is chapter 1. Like usual, my first chapter is Richonne light and setup, but chapter 2 onward will be nothing but Richonne. Hope you enjoy!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

1 – Don't Leave Home

"Five more minutes then we hit the road."

"Or else, what? We break an imaginary curfew?" Sasha smirked at her best friend from behind the magazine in her hands. She flipped to the next page and eyed the featured red-carpet fashions. "Can you believe some people buy this shit? Who cares which Jennifer wore what dress?"

Michonne ignored the question, bypassing the springy-haired 18-year-old on her way to the checkout counter. In her arms, she hauled two hours' worth of snacks and drinks. After the clerk at the register rang her up, she was getting behind the wheel. With or without Sasha.

"Relax! It was a joke. Remember those?" Sasha sighed resignedly. She jammed the magazine into the rack and jogged to catch up. She reached her just as she unloaded her armful of sweet and salty snacks onto the counter.

"I remember when yours were funny," said Michonne. A slow smirk spread across her face as her deep brown eyes met Sasha's. Lucky for her, Sasha appreciated a biting comeback. Hers only drew a laugh out of her, as she shook her head and her curls bounced.

"Uni has made you mean. Anyone tell you that?"

"Yeah, the last guy who asked me out."

The two freshmen shared a small laugh, grabbing the plastic bags from the clerk and turning for the automatic sliding doors. Outside, the wintry air nipped them hello, chilling their cheeks and noses 'til numbness kicked in. Michonne got behind the wheel and her janky Honda bumbled to a start.

"So, are we going to see each other during break or…?" Sasha asked.

"My mom already has the next week booked." Michonne clicked her seatbelt into place and then checked her rearview. "Family dinners. Family photos. Family gift exchanges. She's going all out this year."

"I see. What's the special occasion?"

"Don't know, but it's a hell of a change from the last two years. I'm kind of glad—"

"Michonne, brakes!"

Michonne slammed on the brakes. The two teenagers jerked forward against their seatbelts. Somewhere from behind them, a car out of sight honked its horn.

Sasha's eyes looked wildly from the window to Michonne. "Did you not see him?"

"See who?"

"That truck! You weren't clear to back out. He was driving by."

"Oh," said Michonne, glancing in the rearview again. "He wasn't there a second ago…"

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" Sasha quirked a brow. "I know you were top of the class in high school, but that didn't include driver's ed. Remember driver's ed?"

"Yes! And I'm not that bad." Michonne carefully backed out of the parking spot a second time, going slow to ensure Sasha didn't have a heart attack. Turning onto the road again, albeit after a slight screech from her tires, she hit the gas and gained some speed. Soon they were speeding down the barren road sidelined by endless trees.

Michonne checked the time. They'd cross the city limits into Alexandria in no time. She'd drop Sasha off at the Williams residence and then she'd continue on a couple streets over 'til home. Mom would likely be by the windows, jumping at the sight of her. The door would burst open and she'd dash down the front steps to greet her eldest daughter at the car. Bobbing a couple spirited steps behind her would be Curtis and Malia.

It wouldn't be the perfect holiday she'd grown used to throughout childhood and early adolescence, but it was damn close. Certainly closer to anything she'd get in Texas with Dad. He hadn't been a source of joy since leaving them. After the divorce, his idea of Christmas entailed a quiet dinner, movie marathon and eventual nap on the couch. The mere thought alone contradicted the point of Christmas.

"You happy to be back?" Sasha asked minutes later. The bold blue and white city sign passed them by, welcoming them to Alexandria.

"I haven't been home since summer."

"Me neither. Four months is a long time. I was telling Ty he better not've moved any of the shit in my room."

Michonne laughed. "I locked my door when I left. I'm the only one with a key."

"Knowing the twins, I'd still be paranoid."

"Good point," said Michonne, steering the wheel along the road's curve. "But they haven't reached the dark age yet so I think my CD's and desktop are okay."

"The dark age?"

"Puberty." Michonne grinned thinking about her younger brother and sister and their innocent mischief. She'd missed them the four months she'd been away, but the next couple weeks would be an opportunity for them to reconnect.

The scratched, dented and dinged Honda Civic screeched to a halt outside the Williams home. The sloppy stop sent them jerking against their seatbelts. Sasha shook her head with an incorrigible laugh.

"Thanks for the bumpy ride," she teased.

"Next time you walk." Michonne smirked as Sasha got out the car and went around to grab her things.

"Call me later!" Sasha shouted, rolling her suitcase up the front walkway. A second later, the door opened and her year-younger brother tossed his burly arms around his petite sister in a giant bearhug.

Michonne's heart swelled witnessing the happy reunion. Ty caught her eye and they exchanged a quick wave from afar. Hands on the wheel again, she pulled away from the curb and headed home.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was just as she remembered it.

The two-story colonial home had been where she laid her head for 18 years of her life. The manicured lawn and pebbled walkway, along with the mailbox perched at the front, hadn't changed. Neither had the snow-white door and shutters around every window. Most of all, a warm glow emanated from the house itself, signaling home sweet home.

Michonne breathed a deep sigh pulling into the drive. For a long moment it was all she could do but sit there and bask in the small epiphany that she'd made it. The Christmas holiday was finally fit to begin…

She barely set foot outside the car before the door burst open. On cue, Mom hurried outside with tears shining in her eyes and a watery smile. She engulfed her in a motherly embrace, squeezing her tight with little room to breathe. Behind her, newly thirteen Malia appeared. She walked slower than expected, arms folded and face deadpan. Michonne only noticed after Mom released her from her vicelike grip.

"You've gotten too skinny! What've you been eating?" asked Mom, eying her head-to-toe. "I knew it—you're too focused on classes and you're forgetting to eat. I've got some sweet potato pie baking in the oven—"

"Mom," said Michonne, smiling slightly. "I've been surviving on a diet of vanilla lattes and PB&J's. I'm fine."

"Well, dinner's in forty minutes." She wiped at her tears, looking on the verge of more. Then she glanced around left and right. "Where's Curtis? Curtis, get your butt out here! Your sister's home!"

Michonne stifled a snicker and turned to Malia. "Hey, stranger. Long time, no see."

"Hey…"

"You've got a new look going…"

Malia shrugged, arms still folded. Gone were the pastel colored, cartoon print t-shirts and beaded jewelry. Replacing them were the sleek denim jeans that seemed much too tight and the mascara and eyeliner darkening her eyes. Both had been definite no-no's when she'd been thirteen.

Almost opening her mouth in confused protest, Mom cut in as if reading her mind. "Only in the house. Speaking of, go inside, Malia. The neighbors might see you."

Michonne's brows knitted together watching Malia roll her eyes and spin on her heel. Her bemusement didn't last long, interrupted by Curtis finally listening to Mom's calls. The 13-year-old emerged like a weed grown overnight, several inches taller and ganglier. Her stomach roiled as it dawned on her the bubbly little 12-year-old she'd grown used to would not be making an appearance.

"You too, huh?" she asked, reaching out to hug him. "You're taller than me these days…"

"I'm thirteen now."

Her ears rejected the throatier voice. "Yeah, sorry I missed it. I guess I didn't realize you two would change so much in a couple months."

"Woke up one day sounding like this," he said, grinning.

"If he keeps growing like he is he'll be as tall as any NBA player. That'll help come scholarship time," said Mom.

A glimmer of the bashful 12-year-old Michonne knew made an appearance as Curtis cringed. She laughed.

"Anyway, Michonne, there's someone I'd like you to meet," said Mom. Her cloying smirk widened. Michonne followed her gaze as it traveled to the open doorway. A man she'd seen only in Dad's company work photos emerged. He bore the same streaks of gray through his neatly cropped hair, matched by his thick and trimmed mustache. At some point in his younger years, he'd been in tip-top shape, still robust for a man in the ballpark of his fifties. Laugh lines creased on his dark skin as his mouth fell open in a jovial smile.

"The Michonne!" he exclaimed, holding his hand out for a shake. "I've heard so much about you!"

Her arms hung limply at her sides. "Mom, who's this?"

"This is Joe. He's our guest this Christmas," she said. "You might remember him from a few years ago—we went to your father's company picnic that Fourth of July—"

"You're friends with my dad?" Michonne's eyes shrunk, brows bunched together.

Joe and Mom exchanged a quick glance. Gauche silence ensued after that for one too many seconds.

"Michonne, Joe and I are in a relationship," said Mom flatly.

"A relationship? That's the surprise?"

"Yes," said Joe. "We've been seeing each other for—"

"A while," Mom cut in. "Why don't we head inside and chat about it some more over dinner? And you can tell us about your first semester. You were always so vague over the phone!"

The couple both gave off a small chuckle that Michonne skipped out on. Her jaw had locked up, set tensely as she failed to take her eyes off the man she'd seen in so many photos with Dad. The once nippy air provided no relief for her rapidly rising body temperature. She couldn't articulate what brought on such a heated reaction, but watching Mom and Joe grab each other's hands only intensified things.

She trailed behind them by a longshot, a heaviness hanging over her like a dark storm cloud. They didn't seem to notice, and if they did, they thought it best to keep up a festive mood. Inside the house, the scent of spiced pumpkin in the air and warmth from the heater going, they dived into lively conversation about ice-skating after dinner. Mom had Malia helping set the table and Joe conversed with Curtis on ESPN's game schedule.

Michonne stood in the hall unable to pinpoint how she could feel alien to a house she once called home. Even in recent years, with Dad gone, Christmas between the four of them had still felt…familiar. There'd been an intimacy they shared as a family recovering from a major fracture. But, now, a different energy lingered in the air. An intruder invaded their space, acting as if he'd been there since day one.

Since when was that okay? Why didn't Malia and Curtis seem to care? How had Mom not told her? Did she expect her to welcome some strange man with arms wide open into their home?

Shaking her head, Michonne abandoned her newfound role as outsider to her own family. She disappeared up the stairs before they could notice her absence. Time alone in her room would help her process the revelation and clear her head.

At least she hoped.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

After kicking off her boots and pulling off her sweatshirt, she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. Forty-seven minutes later, she woke to a soft tap at her door. Her eyes shot to the clock. Dinner.

"Michonne, are you in there? Honey, come downstairs. We're about to eat."

She sat up and brushed a loc out her face. Her stomach rumbled, but a lack of energy prevented her from getting out of bed.

"I'm coming in."

The knob turned as Mom used a key to enter. Michonne's brow furrowed.

"I thought I had the only key?" she mumbled.

"Well, you did. Other than the master," said Mom, plopping down onto the side of her bed. She smiled softly, caressing her eldest daughter's cheek. "So, what's going on? Why are you holed up in your room after only being home an hour?"

"Who is he?"

Mom sighed and said, "I figured that was your problem. Honey, Joe's my partner. We're in a relationship. He's a great man—give him a chance."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I know how stubborn you are. You took the divorce the hardest. If I told you, you wouldn't have come for Christmas, right?" Mom waited a couple seconds for an answer, but only silence replied. "Exactly my point. I know my kids. Malia's impressionable. Curtis slacks off. And you're the hardheaded one."

"So you thought blindsiding me would be better?" Michonne asked, tone brisk. She shifted from Mom's touch, backing further away out of reach. "I'm supposed to be okay with coming home to some new man in our home?"

"What does it matter? Your father and I have been divorced for two years. Why, Joe and I are at the point where we're talking about mar—" she stopped there, mouth clamping shut.

Michonne's gut instinct helped her read Mom. She swallowed against the dry lump in her throat and said, "how long?"

"How long, what?"

"How long have you two been together? If you're already talking marriage."

Mom's averted gaze and incredulous laugh posed as two new clues. "Michonne honey, I don't think that's relevant. Dinner is waiting downstairs."

"Dad quit his job and moved across the country," said Michonne. Her pulse raced into overdrive, inspiring a twitchy tingle throughout the rest of her body. She stood to walk it off, pacing the length of the room as her grip on her temper loosened. "You never told us what happened—you never told us why you split up. But Dad hasn't been the same since. Was it Joe? Did you cheat on Dad? Is that what happened? All this time?"

"Michonne—"

"Tell me the truth!" Mistrust and betrayal darkened her eyes.

"It's a very complicated story—one that children wouldn't understand," said Mom, standing. "Even now, at your age, I don't think—"

"So that's a yes," she interrupted coldly. An even colder laugh followed as she shook her head in utter disbelief. "A lot's making sense now. Dad leaving. You always being gone 'working late'. You were out with him when you said you were, right? Is that what was going on?"

Mom's chest rattled out a shaky breath. Her eyes closed and the heaviness on her face revealed the inner turmoil hidden beneath the surface. But Michonne had little sympathy. Her flared temper meant she only saw red, and when she saw red, nobody deserved an ounce of forgiveness. Unable to stomach Mom's presence a second longer, she barreled for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere."

"Where?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Anywhere but here!" Michonne snapped. She made it halfway down the staircase before Joe and the twins caught onto the mother-daughter feud. The three emerged from the dining room with wide-eyes and mouths agape, silent and uncertain.

Finally, Joe spoke. "Michonne, why don't you calm down a sec and hear Beverly out?"

In a millisecond, listening to the intruder's gruff voice plead with her, the last thread burst from the seams and her temper roared to freedom. She spun on him, hands balled into fists and voice quavered by scorn.

"You shut up!" she yelled. "You get no say in this—it's none of your business. Get out of my house!"

The outburst left every inch of her shaking on the spot. She couldn't handle their aghast stares and so she hurdled for the front door, snatching her coat off the rack on her way.

"Michonne!" Mom cried after her.

Night had fallen long ago, but she stubbornly strode into the dark cold without a single look back.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Calm down. Just breathe. You're heated."

Michonne flopped onto her best friend's bed and clenched her eyes shut. Doing as told, she lay still and concentrated on slowing down her raging heartbeat. It thundered painfully against her chest with zero remorse. The mattress sunk down slightly with Sasha's added weight. The curly-haired teenager had started to fan her with a magazine.

"Wooo, that argument sounds like a shit show," she said. "I can just imagine their faces when you told him to shut up."

"Sasha, this isn't funny…"

"Never said it was. But I know you and that temper of yours."

"You're one to talk."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one with the family secret coming out four days before Christmas," Sasha countered. Her fanning magazine blew cool air against Michonne's heated skin. "You know if you need a place to stay, you can stay here, right? My folks love you. Maybe more than me. Ty too, with his delusional ass crush."

"Sasha…" Michonne spoke her best friend's name in a noise between a groan and a laugh.

"What? He does! You know it's true. He was pissed as hell when you went to prom with Mike."

"Not what I want to talk about right now."

"Okay, so what are you going to do? Go back home? Return to school?"

"Campus is a ghost town right now," sighed Michonne.

"Then stay with us!"

She sat up and rubbed her face. The tension so vehemently present in every limb had gone, replaced by a strange numbness that left her lethargic. "I don't know what I want to do. I keep thinking about my dad, spending Christmas alone—spending everyday alone after what she and that man have done to him…"

"So she admitted it? She cheated on him?" Sasha asked slowly.

"Her silence was enough. I know my mom. She can't lie for shit, so she thinks not saying anything gives her a pass."

"Why don't you talk it out with her? If Curtis and Malia are okay with him—"

"Why do I have to be the one to talk to her? After she's gone years hiding this from me?"

"Good point. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I get why our parents do what they do. I'm just saying, maybe she had her reasons," said Sasha, shrugging.

"Yeah, well, I do too." Michonne stood up from the bed, arms folded as she walked toward the window. It overlooked the otherwise quiet street, where small white flurries began to dust the ground. The classic wintery scene instilled a sense of reflection in her that she didn't expect. Eyes glued to the tiny snowflakes falling, the next words that left her mouth almost felt like they were uttered by another person. "I'm going to see my dad."

"What?" Sasha choked. She lost her grip on the magazine, the booklet flopping onto the carpet. "What do you mean see him?"

"I'm going to go visit him. Why should he spend Christmas alone? Why should my mom get to have a happy Christmas with our family when she's the one who betrayed us?" Michonne fired off these questions more to herself than anyone else. "I've spent the last two years thinking he abandoned us, but all this time, she's been the one who threw everything away."

"You going to book a plane ticket? Pretty sure most flights are sold out or expensive as hell."

"I'll drive."

"Drive? You?"

"What?"

"Michonne, I say this with love," said Sasha tentatively. "You can barely drive around the block let alone a thousand-something miles."

"Not this again. My driving's fine."

"You almost hit my neighbor's dog pulling up earlier…"

Michonne cast her a look so acidic in warning, she fell silent.

"Okay, so you drive. You're going to make the trip alone? What happens if you get lost?"

"That's what maps are for," replied Michonne. She left the bedroom window and breathed deeply. The more seconds that passed the more she convinced herself the trip was the right thing to do. There was no going back to Mom's—at least not that Christmas. The campus would be abandoned and empty, and encroaching on the Williams' didn't feel right either. But patching things up with Dad? Fixing the strained father-daughter relationship she'd come to miss in the last two years, in her heart that's where she belonged.

Sasha didn't protest any more. She volunteered to help her plan the trip and suggested Michonne spend the night before she set off. Together the two best friends collected her father's country-wide maps from his office downstairs and they poured over them to figure out the best route.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning?"

Michonne nodded, tracing her finger along the map's ridges. "After I stop by to grab my suitcase, yeah. It'll take about two, two and a half days to get there. I should make it by Christmas Eve."

"Just like that, huh? Surprise, dad! I'm home!" Sasha reenacted teasingly.

"He'll be happy to see me," she said. "He's invited me for Thanksgiving and Christmas since he's moved away. I've just never gone. It's time I do."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

At the crack of dawn, Michonne woke up in the otherwise sleepy Williams household. She tiptoed on her way out, ensuring to leave Sasha a goodbye note on the nightstand. The brisk morning air beat against her skin on her walk to Mom's. There, she slipped inside with her key and retrieved her suitcase as quiet as a mouse.

Or so she thought until she made it to the entrance hall and a deep, throaty voice interrupted her.

"You really going, huh?"

It was Curtis. He stood in his jersey and baggy pajama bottoms, looking half-asleep.

"Yeah," she answered. Drawing a steady breath, she tightened her grip on her suitcase handle. "I can't stay here right now. I feel like everything's been a lie. Don't you?"

"I dunno," he said, half-shrugging. "Guess I kinda always figured Mom and Dad split 'cuz of something like that."

"And you don't care?"

"It's not gonna change anything…" the 13-year-old said in a tone she placed as either defeated or indifferent.

"Probably not, but welcoming that man into the family isn't the answer either," Michonne said. She paused there, stopping herself from another tangent. Curtis couldn't help what happened either. Being several years younger, he was even more powerless than she was. She had options, a means to leave. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Softening up after these thoughts, she opened her arms and walked over to give him a goodbye hug.

"Take care of yourself, alright? Wherever you're going…" he mumbled.

"Thanks. I will." She turned halfway toward the door then stopped, smiling slightly. "What are you doing up, anyway? You love sleeping in 'til noon."

"ESPN. Game scores."

That made her laugh. She shot him a parting smile before she grabbed her suitcase and left home for real that time.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You can do this. You can do this. Plenty of people do this."

Michonne's mantra spoken as a low whisper as she got behind the wheel gave her the last kick she needed. She turned the key in the ignition and gray smoke puffed out from the exhaust. The dowdy but resilient Honda took several minutes to heat up. She held out her hands and reveled in the hot air circulating from the vents.

"It's only 1600 miles," she said. "You split that into twelve hours and in two days you'll be good. You'll be pulling up at his townhouse."

The roads in Alexandria were dead. She first stopped at the gas station and filled up on not only fuel but snacks too. Then the diner adjacent caught her eye and her stomach gurgled knowingly and she couldn't turn down the idea of a hot breakfast. Truckers, night shift workers and a couple sheriff deputies on their lunch hour were the patrons to be found inside. The top-heavy waitress wreaking of cigarette smoke led her to the furthest empty booth in the diner and handed her a menu. She dropped down onto the pleather cushion and eyed the specials.

It felt weirdly empowering to be out so early so alone, about to embark on the longest journey of her life. Going off to university had felt similar, offering up the freedom she'd increasingly craved throughout high school, but even then, within the confines of the college campus, there'd been structure and guidelines. Rules to follow. Now, heading into the great unknown solo, the thought stirred a freefall sensation out of her that both excited and terrified.

"You can do this," she whispered again.

"What was that?" The waitress had sidled up to her table with her notepad and an arched, tattooed brow.

"Uh, an orange juice and the Wake Up Special, please," Michonne said, flushing hot. "Thanks."

After breakfast, she dropped a tip on the table and headed for the door. The earlier liberation that'd coursed through her petered out in exchange for the uncomfortable reminder of what it felt like to be on the skeevy end of leering older men. She ignored the trucker's lecherous eyes and stepped out into the frosty winter air, ready to be in the secure confines of the Honda again.

Doors locked, key in the ignition, heat on and radio too, she switched gears into reverse. The wheels started turning and the Civic started backing up, fighting through its usual lurching engine. Only, the fight the aged car usually won ended differently. Rather than work through its bumbling issues, the engine gave up and died on the spot.

Michonne frowned and turned the key. The car grumbled weakly then quit. Third and fourth attempts fared no better. She tried again for a fifth, a jittery panic exploding inside of her before the cruel realization sunk in. The car was dead, stuck halfway out the parking space like the failure that it was.

She squeezed her eyes shut and banged her head against the steering wheel. The last time she'd brought the Honda into the shop Mike's dad owned, they'd warned her it was as good as a cat on its ninth life. How could she be so stupid to believe the beater car could ever get her to Houston?

A sharp tap on the glass cut her mini-meltdown short. She slowly raised her head, half-expecting one of the skeevy truckers to be outside her window, but received the jolt of surprise when two piercing blue eyes she recognized all too well stared back at her. She rolled down the window.

"Hey," said Rick Grimes. His breath came out in puffs thanks to the December cold.

"Hey…" she trailed off, blinking dazedly.

"Thought that was you," he went on, hands stuffed in his brown suede jacket. "What are you doing out here this early? Just got home from school?"

"Car's dead."

"I see that. You're backed halfway out the parking spot."

"I know. It's a piece of shit."

"Do you want a ride?"

"No thanks." Her tongue felt thick, much too heavy to move in proper conversation.

"You call roadside assistance?" he asked curiously.

She straightened in her seat, growing haughty. "No. Not yet. I'm going to."

"I was headed inside. I'll walk with you."

Michonne did her best to stave off the grimace fighting to make itself visible. Her hesitant nod arrived with a forced smile as she grabbed her purse and got out the car. In reality, there was no use calling a roadside assistance she'd long since let membership expire for, but she also didn't want Rick Grimes to think she had no other options. The ruse would be short-lived, one she quit as soon as he got the picture and left.

They walked side-by-side across the cratered parking lot in disjointed silence. Her former next-door neighbor turned good friend hadn't changed much in the six months since she'd seen him. Sure he might've been a bit taller, sturdier than he'd been come graduation, now sporting the grizzly traces of a man's beard, but in essence, he was still the same boy she'd known him to be. That much was clear after first setting sights on him outside her car window.

She'd met Rick Grimes years ago, when he and his family moved from Georgia and bought the home next-door. Their first meeting consisted of a bickering spat one summer afternoon. He'd knocked a baseball into her yard and shattered windchimes she'd crafted by hand. After his initial pigheadedness wore off, she'd opened the front door the next day to an apology letter and some money.

Not sure how much windchimes cost, but here's everything in my savings. Hope this makes up for it.

It was 27 bucks and 83 cents, and she'd laughed holding the measly funds in her palm. Come September and the start of seventh grade, they relished in a surprise friendship that had them visiting each other's lockers and trading snacks from their paper bag lunches. They shared secrets. He told her about his crush on a girl named Lori. She told him about the time she and Sasha cut class to go to the mall. There wasn't much that went unsaid between them well into high school as they grew older and taller and matured side by side.

Sometimes they ran in different social circles. Her artsy academia clashed with the slacker, lackadaisical friends he'd made, but they'd always known where their friendship stood. Even with her busy school schedule and social life and his baseball and part-time job, they walked the same route home. They waved at each other from their porches and wished the other goodnight. But like with many other things in her life come senior year, in the aftermath of the divorce and impending move to college, things changed. It was time to leave her childhood behind.

And, so, walking beside Rick Grimes inspired a dread that knotted her stomach.

"Damn it, I don't have any change," she groused suddenly. The lie would give her an excuse to make a break for her car…

"I've got some quarters." He fished into his jacket pocket and produced the coins for her to take.

"Uh, thanks…"

Michonne held the phone to her ear, thinking up a number to call. The idea to call Sasha and fake a conversation occurred to her, but knowing Rick, he'd figure out the charade right away. She dropped the coins into the slot and dialed AAA.

"Ma'am, we show your membership expired May 1999. Do you want to renew?" the operator asked on the other end.

"No—I mean, yes. Sure. I'll renew." She flashed Rick a smile as he stood on standby.

Amusement flickered in his blue eyes, but otherwise his face gave nothing else away.

"I'm sorry, can you please hold on?" she asked the AAA clerk. Hand covering the mouthpiece, she hoped to convince him to leave her be. "Hey, I'm good now. They're going to send someone in thirty. You can go. Thanks for the help."

Rick didn't move an inch. She grinded her teeth and returned to the phone conversation. By the time she hung up, she'd engaged in a back-and-forth with the AAA operator about whether the old credit card on file was expired. It was.

"Everything alright?" Rick asked. "Sounded like they're not coming?"

"No…they're not. But it's cool, I'll call Sasha."

"Or I can give you a ride."

"That's okay," she said, leaving the payphone. "You don't have to. I'm sure you've got your own stuff going on. I'm going to wait it out in my car."

"So, what's the suitcase for?"

She stopped mid-stride then turned her deep brown eyes onto him. "Excuse me?"

"Your suitcase—what's it for?" He shrugged, hands still deep in his pockets.

Michonne knew that look on his face. The casual nonchalance that relaxed his features and rasped his voice. That welcomed someone to lower their defenses. She'd been on the receiving end a time or two in their heyday. She'd always told him he'd make a good cop someday…

"I'm visiting from college."

"That's what I thought too, but then I realized you're on the opposite side of the city. Why would you drive through the whole city onto this end, passing your mom's house?" he asked. "That'd make no sense at this time of the morning unless you were that hell bent on breakfast at Susie's Diner. The hot cakes are pretty good but…"

"I needed gas."

"There's about half a dozen closer to your house than this one."

Michonne closed her eyes and exhaled. The jig was up, but her agitation only amplified. "Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing here—or what's going on with my car. Can you please take a hint and go? I'm good. I'm fine. I got this. Bye."

"Alright, I will. Didn't wanna intrude…just thought it was strange seeing you out here like this."

"And it's not weird for you to be out here?"

"I'm 'bout to hit the road. That's why I'm here—stopped to get gas."

"Okay, and so was I. Happy?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I was going to drive to Texas to see my dad."

Rick's shoulders squared as if understanding the implication. "Figured you'd spend it with your mom like you've been the past couple years."

"This year's different. I decided not to. I wanted to spend it with my dad in Texas, but obviously that's not going to happen now that my car's dead."

A long beat passed between them where neither moved and neither spoke. His eyes bored into hers and the gears in his brain could practically be seen turning. Her own burned with irritation as she edged toward a dismissive goodbye and return to her car. Finally, a slight smile cracked onto Rick's bearded face.

"I'll drive you," he said quietly.

"What do you mean? Drive me?"

"I'll take you if you want. I'm headed to California. I'll drop you off on the way."

Michonne blinked and stared. Words scrambled around uselessly in her head. "Me and you? Drive to Texas together?"

"Why not?" he asked, turning his gaze onto the parking lot. His pickup truck waited parked on the opposite end. "I'm already headed that way."

"It'll add extra time to your trip…"

"I don't mind. I've got the time for it," he said vaguely. He shrugged again. "Choice's yours. If you don't want to, I get it. But I need to know. I'm already thirty minutes off schedule."

The juncture left her more conflicted than she initially anticipated. On one hand, she couldn't imagine spending the next couple days solely in his company, forced to endure the tight confines of his truck after what they'd been through. But on the other hand, the ghostly college campus and chaotic household with Mom and Joe seemed much worse. Then she pictured Dad, alone and sullen in his townhouse for Christmas. She drew in a shaky breath and listened to what her heart whispered.

"Okay," she said with a firm nod. "I'll go with you."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Note: Believe it or not, I'm always incredibly nervous about posting a new story, so I'd appreciate any support you want to give for this fic (reviews, follows, favs, etc). I have another 2 chapters finished so I'll probably be posting the next one in a few days once it's edited. Thanks for reading. Happy Holidays!